


Work, rest, play. Okay?

by solnyshka (littlesolnyshka)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Kissing, Sex, facesitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesolnyshka/pseuds/solnyshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt I was given: Scarlett was not the only one who enjoyed the scene where she rode Sebastian like a mechanical bull. It's smut. The whole plot is in the summary :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work, rest, play. Okay?

In rehearsals, it was fine, Scarlett is little, she's petite, she's not heavy at all. It was fine, Sebastian thought, that Scarlett had her thighs either side of his ears, feet tucked around his upper torso, the zipper of her catsuit pressed against the back of his neck. Five hours later? Not so much. He feels the burn in his shoulders a split second too late and he shrugs out the cramp, almost drops her, and she laughs (she fucking laughs, he thinks, oh god) and grabs hold of his hair to steady herself. 

His cock is hard in an instant. Aching hard. He's been on the edge of arousal for most of the day, his cock tucked down against the heaviness of his costume, and now it's pressing insistently, demanding attention that Sebastian doesn't have the energy for right now. His pelvis burns whenever he moves and fabric friction gets hold of him, feels a dangerous frisson whip up his spine to the back of his neck where Scarlett's thighs are gripping him, wishes with all his might that he could just turn her around in front of the entire crew while they gawk at them between takes and bury his face into her, inhale her scent, lave his tongue over her til she moans. He already knows her thighs are strong enough to hold him where she would want him.

And now her hands are in his hair, the long strands wrapped around her fingers making sure she doesn't fall six feet to the ground and he's reduced to a bumbling panicked mess of words and he can't tell if he's terrified she'll fall or so aroused he might blow in his pants in front of everyone.

When she's steady again, she lets out a low giggle and he's thankful for the heavy costuming disguising his reaction, because he imagines that's the sound she would make after she comes. When she's all relaxed and pliable and soft to the touch, fucked out, covered in sweat, sprawled out on his bed- Sebastian wants to know what his stubble would feel like rasping against her inner thighs. He swallows thickly and finishes the scene shot, gets through the rest of the day, cock twitching whenever his eyes meet her cool gaze, the Mona Lisa smile she gives him that makes his brain short circuit. It's like throwing a toaster in the bathwater of his brain, he thinks, and he peels his costume off in his trailer afterward, scrubs himself down in the shower, and he's got his jeans back on at least when someone raps their knuckles against the window of his trailer and makes him jump out of his skin.

Scarlett is agile, lithe, calculated, and when he opens his trailer door shirtless to find her leaning against the outside railing still in her black widow costume, his mind whirls and settles on the concept of her, a predator posing as a house pet, Marla Singer style, and he's fucked. He's hers. He's gone. She's up the stairs and shoving him by his hips back into his trailer until the back of his knees hit the bed frame and he lands on the bed so heavily he feels the trailer shake, and she's on top of him, she's on top of him, and his hands are flipped and pinned to the bed and Sebastian has no fucking idea what's going on except for how good she feels with her clothed hips pinning his down and her hands holding his against the bedspread. He looks up at her through the still-damp strands of his hair and she bites her lip and then bites each of his, looks amused at the breathy moan that betrays him, grinds her hips down as he wriggles his hands free and wraps his arms around her torso, meets her mouth in a searing, dirty kiss while her fingers tug at his belt loops. She's insistent, gets his fly down, her hand inside his jeans and slowly strokes him, watches his face because he's fucking speechless, can't even moan, he's just lying there with his co-stars hand in the front of his jeans touching his cock and he can't even tells how good it feels (she knows) or how hot she is (she knows that, too) and how he's half shy about his cock because not many people have just accosted him in a glorified change room on wheels, can't even remember the last time he had casual sex. Heat rises on his cheeks and she notices, because she dips her head down and wraps that perfect mouth around the head of his cock and swallows him down. When she pulls back he realizes there's a smear of perfect red lipstick from her perfect mouth down the edge of his cock, and she traces her tongue over him again and again, watches for the little tells- the little signs that she notices that show her what he likes best- curls her warm tongue along the underside and watches the muscles tremor in his thighs. She salivates when his pre-cum slicks her mouth, and she looks up, flicks an eyebrow, "Sex?". One word. Oh shit, she wants him to fuck her? 

Sebastian can't even breathe, can't even bear to look down at her hand still wrapped around the base of him otherwise it'll be too much. He mentally apologizes to his cock before he opens his mouth and rasps, "no, not sex, not yet". 

Scarlett pauses, quirks her mouth, tucks a curl behind her ear, before he wriggles free and pulls the lower zipper down on the catsuit, pulls it down until it's unzipped all the way around between her legs to the base of her spine, feels his fingertips graze soft skin on the way past and all of a sudden his mind is blank again, fade to black, he's done for, but this isn't about him, he tells himself, even while he knows full well it's a fucking lie. 

He hooks his hands behind each of her knees and drags her body up his until his mouth is under her hips, his mouth brushes her inner thigh, and when she feels his stubble on her upper leg she moans, low, between her teeth. He turns it to a gasp when his mouth gets closer and when he pulls her hips down so her pussy is on his mouth she fucking mewls, scratches at the little headboard behind the bed, tries not to grind down on his face immediately even though it's all he wants, he would crawl over broken glass to do this every fucking day for the rest of his life because she's warm and slick and tastes tangy and perfect and fresh and he's going to do everything in his power to draw this out until he can drink all of her in. 

He can smell her and taste her and feels her get wetter, tastes the slipperiness of her, licks it out of her before returning his mouth to her clit, swirls his tongue around, feels her thighs twitch either side of his cheeks when he finds her favorite spots. Scarlett gets more demanding, moans louder, looks down to see his messy hair and bruised eyelids while his mouth works her open. She threads her nimble fingers through his hair and holds his mouth just-so, just-there, Sebastian is moaning and she can see over her shoulder that his cock is still aching hard, he's wet from his throat to his cheekbones and all he can think of is how hard his cock is and how hot her pussy is and how she is moaning, grinding down against his mouth and tongue, how he has his hands splayed across her ass and holds her there while she pulls his hair and shudders and twists above him.

When he hears her say his name, Sebastian moans into her, rumbles it against her sensitive skin, cock twitching, his mouth aches and when he feels her thighs tremble, shake, feels her fingers twitch where they're tangled in his hair, she looks down again and sees him watching her writhe and that's it, she's coming with just his mouth, no fingers, nothing else but his hot mouth against her, and he curls his tongue along her to lap up the rush of wetness as she comes, gasping with her head thrown back, red curls tumbling over her shoulders. 

She giggles, low, barely heard, but it's the same giggle as earlier when her thighs were wrapped around the back of his neck, either side of his face. 

When she eases off him, uses the headboard to make sure she doesn't knee him in the face, and she touches herself, feels the warmth of the slick stickiness on her inner thighs, damp on the top of the legs of that catsuit, realizes- that even though Sebastian looks dazed and confused- his cock is hard, arching up against his stomach from where she opened his jeans earlier. 

He arches into the hand she slips it back into his open jeans, curls it around his cock and he throws his head back and just moans this time, moans like she's killing him, moans like he's about to come everywhere already, like he wants to. He feels her other hand slide over his chest and stomach, not normally waxed, all smooth and soft ridges of muscle and hypersensitive, scratches her manicured fingernails over his inguinal lines and watches him shiver. His mouth is wet, pink, tastes like her, hair tousled, she's probably dislodged some of his costume hair extensions from yanking his hair back, but he looks perfect, fucking precious, and when she shoves his jeans and boxer briefs properly down his toned legs his cock twitches. She smooths her hands down his stomach again, traces the head of his cock once more with her tongue as he cries out, bites his lip so hard he's bleeding, wants more but can't fucking bear it, ugh-just-fuck-me-let-me-come-pleasepleaseplease-oh-god, can taste iron in his mouth but he doesn't give a fuck as long as she's riding him within the next five seconds. 

She rustles through his bedside drawer, finds a condom, slides it over his cock with her mouth, lines herself up and sinks down onto him, around him, sighs when she sees his pupils blow out and smooths a smear of blood off his bitten lip with her thumb, watches him swirl his tongue around her finger while she starts to fuck him. He's loud, doesn't shout it from rooftops but he's noisy in bed, appreciative, his heightened sense of everything extending to his skin (it feels like he's on fire) and his nipples (where he flinches and hisses through his teeth every time she digs a nail in as opposed to rolling them gently under the pads of her fingers) and the soft little patch of skin just behind his ear (where her fingernails are definitely welcome and he trembles when she traces his own name over the skin there). 

He holds her hips as she rolls them down, grinds down on him, guides his hands so he's smoothing his hands up her little waist to pull her down into a kiss that means she has to rock her hips down onto him, gets wetter at the noises he's making until she steps it up a level and now, now, now, it's all he wants, digs his short nails into her skin and arches his back, his breath hitching every time he thrusts up and finds himself buried to the hilt inside her again, and he's crying out - louder than her, louder than any of her other lovers, and it's hot to know the effect you have on someone, she thinks, as she watches his face as he comes undone underneath her- slams her down onto himself and throws his head back and she can't help but lean forward, licks up his jaw, bites his earlobe, curls her forearms around under the back of his neck so he's kissing her through it when he comes so hard he sees nothing, sees white noise behind his eyes, rides it out and holds her there until the aftershocks stop feeling so fucking good. She feels him relax but can still feel his cock throbbing inside her, his staccato heart beat, his breathing slowed now he's finally come after a whole day of teasing. 

As they clean up, she realizes he's not usually so quiet, usually he's quite talkative, excited for anyone to talk to him about anything, he's the new kid on the block. "Zip me up, yeah?" She murmurs, stands in front of him while he carefully pulls the zip through its teeth, hands still shaking, and he looks unsure. Tentative. 

"Can we, yknow. Make this a regular thing?" She asks, watches him shrug a hoodie over himself, pulls the hood up, picks his wallet and car keys off the little table built into the wall of his trailer. He looks up, scratches a hand through his hair, starts looking for his belt. "Um, sure, if you want to? With me?"

She laughs. "Only if you want to." He nods, can't believe his dumb luck, smells like sex when he walks out of his trailer and locks it behind them both for the night. "Yeah. Alright. Fuck, yeah."


End file.
